Padfoot's Tale
by His.Pointy.Tongued.Majesty
Summary: There's always another side of the story. The right one. I have been in the shadow of doubt, and the rage of betrayal; I have experienced the slow death that is the descent into madness, and I have seen the only glimmer of hope vanish from in front of me. I have lost everything.


_October 25, 1981_

I glance at the clock and purse out my lips ever so slightly. I sit at the kitchen table, where two plates of simple grilled chicken and marinara pasta were sitting and growling cold. I lace my fingers together and press my fists to my lips as I breathe out, closing my eyes. This was the third time this week that he was late. Without a single word as to why. I breathe out again, trying to still my anxiously beating heart. I know I am a hypocrite to be worried about him being late... there were more than a few nights where I hadn't come home until very, very late.

What if something had happened?

My eyes open and I start quickly wrapping up the untouched food that would have to wait for later. My actions are quick and jerking, my pulse pounding as my stomach churns. Why wasn't he home yet? Why hadn't he sent a note, or a patronus, or _anything_? I feel a growl rumble in my chest as I slam the refrigerator door shut. I stand there in the kitchen for a while, the only sounds are my breathing and the occasional creak of the water pipes or the night-time noises from outside.

I keep standing there, my mind whirling with thoughts. It was dangerous to be out at this time, Death Eaters constantly hunting us, hunting the Order, hunting half-bloods and blood-traitors and muggle borns. Even muggles. They were killing muggles now, had been for the past few months. One couldn't leave his home without being afraid for his life.

Why was he late? It was dangerous for him to be out, as a half-blood, half-breed member of the Order of the Phoenix, and he knew it. And he also knew that we have an agreement to let each other know where we are, and if we are going to be home late.

I feel my blood burn in anxiety.

I turn around as the door opens. He walks in, unraveling the scarf from his neck and removing the cloak from his shoulders. He is disheveled, his brown curls escaping from the band that held it back at the base of his neck, his honey-colored eyes tired and weary. I feel a twist in my chest, and I press my lips together.

"Where were you?" I growl out, my eyes locking onto him. I cross my arms over my chest rather deliberately.

"Out," he answers, not looking up at me as he finishes unwrapping himself from the cloak and scarf. "Sorry that I'm late."

"Bullocks," I snap, unable to help the tone that escapes my lips. "Where were you?" I ask again, with more force.

He turns his eyes on me. He has his eyebrow arched and his own lips are pressed into a thin line. "I was out doing things with the Ministry. They're cracking down on werewolf restrictions again."

"You could have let me know." I hiss as I keep cleaning up the kitchen. "Dinner is in the refrigerator, by the way."

He does not move from his spot in front of the door. I can feel his eyes narrowing at me in his anger. "Oh, and I suppose it's alright for _you_ to be out all hours of the night without any sort of assurance that you're alright?"

Normally, I would have flinched at his tone. But tonight, I am too angry. I slap the rag down on the counter, the smack creating a tense silence. "Don't use that tone with me, Remus."

Remus' eyes flare as he breathes out sharply through his nostrils . "A tone? You think I'm using a _tone_ with you, Sirius Black?" He unfolds his arms, his fists clenching at his sides. "I suppose you think _this_ isn't any better?"

"No!" I whirl around to face him, my fingers pressing down hard on the countertop. "I have been here, worried absolutely sick about you-you don't think that I don't know about the werewolf restrictions? Remus, more people out there have died within the past week and-"

"And I suppose you think you are allowed to go out and act like some kind of hero!" Remus snaps at me, his voice growing in volume. "You can't keep vanishing for, for, for days on end because of some stupid Order mission-"

"-I am _helping _people, Remus!" I yell over him, taking a few very long steps towards him. Sometimes I forget how tall Remus actually is, and I find myself looking up at him. I

Remus' upper lip twitches with irritation. "You think what I'm doing is useless? You think what I've done, is useless? Is that it, Sirius?"

I let out a hiss of breath and I grit my teeth. "That is not what I'm implying."

"Then tell me, what on earth are you implying?"

"I'm implying that it's dangerous for you to be out there at night with Death Eaters hunting us and watching our every move!" I yell at him, getting closer so that our faces are less than a few centimeters apart.

"You think I don't know that!" Remus yells back at me, raising his voice to that very rare volume he only ever uses when he's angry. "You think I don't know that, and you think I don't worry every single time you leave this house? That I won't get to see you the next morning? Sirius, every single time you walk out of this house I think I'm never going to see you again!"

I stare into the dark amber eyes that were going wide now with emotion, the skin stretched thinly over the high cheekbones with the puckered scars, and dotted faintly with freckles that had appeared over the summer due to working in the garden. I stare at him, stare over the tightly pressed lips that I had come to know so well. "You don't have to worry about me," I growl out quietly.

"Well, I do. And there's nothing that's going to change that." Remus growled right back in a tone that immediately ended the conversation. I back off, taking a step back and tearing my eyes away from his. I can still feel his eyes on me, though-that was the thing about Remus. He never broke contact, never broke that intense analyzing stare that he sometimes got.

I turn around to go back to finishing cleaning the kitchen, even though my spiteful side is telling me not to... the situation is bad enough without me listening to my embittered thoughts. "So, what sort of restrictions do they have now?"

Remus finally moves, walking slowly towards the sofa and slowly sitting down. "They want to make us wear tags, and check in with them every three months."

"I see," I say very curtly. Normally, I would be more invested in this, considering that I was very _much_ invested in what was going on with Remus' life, as we had been with each other for the better part of six years. But I am not in the mood to be wordy.

I can feel his disapproval emanating of him like a dark cloud. I had struck a nerve with my two-word response, and maybe... that is what I had wanted.

"Your sympathy is _astounding_," the venom in Remus' voice makes my skin crawl as he reached for his book on the coffee table and he forcefully opens it. "You can at least try to sound interested."

"I _am_ interested!" I can't help the rise in volume as I am riled up again. I can feel my body heat in anger, the tension in the room is almost tangible, like a rope that is pulled too taught with the fraying middle, about the snap. "Excuse me for not wording it how you would like."

"It's not about wording it right, Sirius Black, it's about showing compassion and sympathy!" Remus snaps the book shut and he looks at me again, his eyes flaring dangerously. "It's about actually _caring_ that I am becoming a prisoner in this bloody world and you aren't even putting forth an _effort_ to even care!"

"I'm _sorry_, but after worrying about you missing or possibly dying, I really don't think I can handle any more _caring._" I hiss out the words, dripping with malicious intent.

Remus' face goes pale and he sets his jaw.

Of course, I keep going. "I have a lot of other things on my mind at the moment, too, so I'm sorry for being a little short on care and worry and concern for something that has been going on for years and what is not going to change any time soon!"

The look on his face is horrifying.

And for some reason... I enjoy it. I relish in it. I _drink in_ seeing the wide-eyed, pale-face expression on Remus Lupin's face.

The silence is sweet.

The silence is extensive.

The sound that comes out of his mouth is quiet and controlled. "...if you really feel that way, I apologize for bringing it up. I won't put my problems on you again." And then he stands, he is looking down, away from me, and I can see that his lips are pressed into a thin line and his fingers are shaking.

I blink and I feel something collide into my chest and I grow cold. "Remus-"

"No, don't apologize. You're right. I am selfish and it was foolish of me to think that you would even care." His tone is biting and cold, while he remained quiet.

I look down at the counter and and my fingers curl into soft fists as I purse my lips. "I'm going out." I say decisively, quickly walking over to the door and grabbing my cloak. I wait for him to stop me.

"I think that is best."

I feel a chill run down my spine and I look over my shoulder at him. Remus has his arms wrapped loosely around his chest and he is staring at the floor. His lips are pressed firmly together and his shoulders shake as he draws in a breath.

He does not say anything more.

I pull on my cloak with a sort of heavy finalization, feeling like my limbs were made of lead and a cold realization that I had truly, and honestly, messed things up left me feeling empty and dead as I walked out of that door.


End file.
